Couple Time

Mark and I rarely do couple time. You can’t count mealtime and bedtime. We’re cooking and eating on the first hand, and sleeping on the second hand. Yes, we spend a lot of time together, but we’re mostly absorbed in the routine of living and ranching.

I counted an evening last week as couple time. We drove to one of our outlying fields to check the bonfire of limbs we had burned that morning. The cattle were close by and when we got out of the pickup, Mark said “there’s my friend!” The little spotted calf that we had cared for in the barn came over to greet us. She is still attached to humans and Mark had been encouraging it by scratching her neck and back periodically as he drives through the herd checking health. The calf walked on over and of course Mark obliged.

The sun was setting, the fire had settled, the cattle were content in their new pasture. I was happy to have some quiet time with my husband on the land. The moments don’t come often enough. Well, apparently they come just often enough to keep me committed. For commitment it takes.

We come from committed ancestry. I was rolling out homemade noodles for the branding crew one morning (I never make homemade noodles) when I had a moment. I was kneading the dough and rolling it out on the counter when I had a distinct feeling of my Mom doing the same thing. It was like I was watching her hands and mimicking her movements, rather than actually knowing how to do it myself. It was strange - as if I was accessing my childhood imprints instead of my 40 some years of cooking!

Our young people don’t realize how quickly the generations flow by and how much our present day reality has to do with the actions of previous generations. They will one day.

And it’s not just within a ranching family. It should resonate, but I doubt it does, with newcomers to Idaho. Do they have any idea how our water works? About the vast Snake River Aquifer and the connection between it and the canal diversions the pioneers made in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s? How we really have only one water? And that building large homes with large lawns in the countryside have unintended consequences?

Do any of us realize, newcomers and oldtimers alike, that in reality we don’t know if this is sustainable or not. It was only 150 years ago that our neighbors, the Shoshone and Bannock tribes, lived on this land with little impacts. Now we have vastly changed the character of the land and there’s a very real possibility that the true consequences are in our future. And that change is only accelerating.

I know I’m sounding old, but I have always believed that the wisdom of the old combined with the vigor and optimism of youth was the only way to navigate our world. I was once that vigorous youth, and still feel the same way. I just need to know we're creating a future together, with full knowledge and acceptance of our place here.